Muse

A muse is a funny thing.
A whirly-gig on my shoulder.
A time pig.

Amuse me!

She soars in song
Borne upon the ceaseless winds
Of my soul.

She teases me
With fleeting fancy
I'll never know;
And burns from within:
The scraps of notions
She did not inspire.

The love and loathing
Of her coming and going,
Stills my feet-
Yet moves me.

Such a funny thing.
Whirly-gig.
Time Pig.

A snow-white vision of crimson
and sapphire-
Drapes me in wayward green.

And so she comes-
uncalled for-
Her song draws me in-
And swallows me,
In the rip tide
Of her.

Did I say: "A Funny Thing" ?
No more!




by
M.K. Brown
copyright 2006